Which of These Candidates Is the Worst New Yorker?

Out of the 19.8 million people who call the Empire State home, nearly 8.5 million reside in New York City, the most populous metropolis in America. That’s a significant chunk of potential voters in the state’s upcoming primaries, which could make or break Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, and Ted Cruz. (Oh, and John Kasich, too.) But after months of stumping through America’s heartland, visiting churches and mingling with Real Americans, the five remaining candidates now face the difficult challenge of relating to New Yorkers, a glorious melting pot of left-wing, communist, Jewish, homosexual pornographers, not to mention minorities, the liberal media, immigrants from every corner of the world, and not a few kooks and racists, too.

With the clock ticking down to the critical Republican and Democratic primaries on April 19, we rank these fake New Yorkers from worst to best.

6. Ted Cruz

The unctuous Texas senator looked at home in Iowa, maligning Donald Trump for his “New York values.” Now, as the soft-faced panderer turns his sights on the Big Apple, he appears to be struggling to connect.

On Wednesday, Cruz traveled to the Bronx, considered one of the most diverse areas in the country, where his Real New York Deli experience was made realer by the appearance of a loud Yankees-hat-wearing protester calling him a “right-wing bigot.”

He was later scheduled to speak at the Bronx Lighthouse College Preparatory Academy, a charter school, until a group of students sent a letter to the principal saying they would stage a walkout if Cruz were to take the stage. “The presence of Ted Cruz and the ideas he stands for are offensive,” they wrote, saying that his beliefs were “actively working to harm us, our community, and the people we love. He is misogynistic, homophobic, and racist.”

The event was canceled.

The next day, Cruz took a detour into the heart of Brooklyn’s large Hasidic Jewish community, visiting a matzo factory and awkwardly singing Passover songs with the children. (In all fairness, “Dayenu” is quite easy to pick up if you’ve never heard it before.)

“Everyone in New York and outside of New York knows exactly what I meant by that,” he insisted. “And it is the liberal values of Democratic politicians who have been hammering the people of New York for decades. They’ve suffered under these liberal values. It’s been politicians like Governor Andrew Cuomo, like Hillary Clinton, like Mayor Bill de Blasio.”

5. Hillary Clinton

It is a shameful moment when Clinton, who represented the state of New York as a senator for eight years, who placed her national campaign headquarters in Brooklyn, whose husband’s nonprofit was based in Harlem and currently resides in Midtown, and whose daughter lives in Manhattan, cannot figure out how to ride the subway. Five swipe attempts? For shame.

One of the treasured traditions of any campaign stop is the Consumption of the Local Foods, where the candidates eat regional delicacies in front of the cameras and make lip-smacking noises of enjoyment. Kasich, who is lagging far behind in polls and in delegates, apparently believed that the more food he ate, the more points he would gain.

The Ohio governor, who was visiting a food market in the Bronx, reportedly consumed two plates of spaghetti bolognese, a salami sandwich, an entire plate of pasta fagioli, and selections from a massive plate of antipasto. His campaign took extra cannolis to go. “If I lived in the Bronx, I’d eat here every day,” he proclaimed, while an astonished butcher said he could not believe Kasich just consumed half of an Italian restaurant.

If ever someone embodies old-school New York values, it would be the Brooklyn-born senator from Vermont. Sanders is a serious, 1950s Midwood-bred Brooklyner, who probably played stickball in a backlot, not some namby-pamby Williamsburg trust funder with unrealistic dreams of being an artist.

Still, his credibility was dealt a minor blow when he mistakenly told the New York Daily News that he thought people still used subway tokens, which were phased out in 2003, but the Vermont carpetbagger rebounded by saying the best way to take the train was to “jump over the turnstile,” which is totally a pre–Rudy Giuliani, “broken windows”–era move, which scores him bonus points for grungy New York authenticity.

That didn’t stop Clinton from swiping at Sanders’s subway ignorance, noting that the MTA switched to Metrocards during her first term. (This was, however, after she fumbled at the turnstile, so there’s that.)

2. Donald Trump

Trump, who so embodies “New York values” that he flies back to the city nearly every night to sleep in his Trump Tower penthouse, returned home to a commanding 34 point lead in the polls after losing in Wisconsin. The Queens-born billionaire, whose antics have made him a staple of local tabloids for decades, was in the city Friday to catch up on his side hustle—“Remember, I am still running a major business while I campaign,” he tweeted—though his next campaign stop is in Rochester on Sunday, some 340 miles away from Trump Tower.

While Manhattan residents may loathe everything that he stands for, New Yorkers hate everybody (one trait Trump shares). And Trump does deserve some credibility for offering a passionate defense of New York Values during a debate against Cruz, evoking the city's response to the September 11th attacks. “When you want to knock New York, you’ve got to go through me,” he told Bloomberg in a January interview, sounding the quintessential mob boss (or mayoral candidate). “New York is an amazing place with amazing people.” He’s got Rudy Giuliani’s vote.

1. Michele Bachmann

Nobody throws more shade, apparently, or swipes a Metrocard better, than the honorary New Yorker from Minnesota.

The enormous chandelier, powered by the flickering spirits of the dead, guards the noxious entrance to the 20-foot-woman’s lair. Don’t be comforted by the rope restraining her to the platform—she threatens to escape at any moment and enact bloody revenge on her captors.

Beware the Headless Slot-Machine Addict. She haunts escalators—and nightmares. During our tour, we heard a gruesome tale of her death. Thousands of years ago, while playing a Dean Martin–themed slot machine, Berta Schwartzberg hit the jackpot. She held out her complimentary* Donald J. Trump™ soft-pack cooler to collect her winnings, but was pushed out of the way by a gang of youths walking too damn fast for their own good. She fell to her grave, and to this day still trolls the casino floor as a chain-smoking specter, looking for her hundreds of dollars in quarters and warning young people to “watch it.”

*Cooler free with purchase of Trump Taj Mahal Casino Hotel™ junior suite for a minimum of six (6) nights.

Visitors are warned that if they enter the Hall of Mirrors, they might not ever come out. Donald J. Trump™ himself once stayed in there for more than a month, hypnotized by the sight of his own reflection.

The haunted forest of plastic flora. How much more money would it have cost to purchase living plants? $100? $200?

Despite our willingness to sign a waiver, we did not gain entry to the most dangerous part of the haunted house.

The outlines of grotesque, preternaturally bendy poltergeists dance before nauseating wallpaper, making for a phantasmagorical vision of unimaginable filth. This ghost, named Xtyl (pronounced “Crystal”), flung her limbs about as if in mid-seizure. Nearby, one gentleman—a modern Odysseus tying himself to the mast of his ship as he sails past the Sirens—sipped a bottled beer as he witnessed the ghastly display of deeply unsexy misery.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

The enormous chandelier, powered by the flickering spirits of the dead, guards the noxious entrance to the 20-foot-woman’s lair. Don’t be comforted by the rope restraining her to the platform—she threatens to escape at any moment and enact bloody revenge on her captors.

Beware the Headless Slot-Machine Addict. She haunts escalators—and nightmares. During our tour, we heard a gruesome tale of her death. Thousands of years ago, while playing a Dean Martin–themed slot machine, Berta Schwartzberg hit the jackpot. She held out her complimentary* Donald J. Trump™ soft-pack cooler to collect her winnings, but was pushed out of the way by a gang of youths walking too damn fast for their own good. She fell to her grave, and to this day still trolls the casino floor as a chain-smoking specter, looking for her hundreds of dollars in quarters and warning young people to “watch it.”

*Cooler free with purchase of Trump Taj Mahal Casino Hotel™ junior suite for a minimum of six (6) nights.

Visitors are warned that if they enter the Hall of Mirrors, they might not ever come out. Donald J. Trump™ himself once stayed in there for more than a month, hypnotized by the sight of his own reflection.

A fountain overflows with the blood of innocents and Red Bull. Visitors are encouraged to throw pennies into the fountain, as Donald J. Trump™ personally removes all discarded change. It is the third-most-profitable Trump Organization™ venture.

Visiting the Trump Taj Mahal Casino Hotel™ does funny things to one’s vision, which is why prospective customers with heart conditions, optical impairments, or better things to do are discouraged from entering.

The haunted forest of plastic flora. How much more money would it have cost to purchase living plants? $100? $200?

Despite our willingness to sign a waiver, we did not gain entry to the most dangerous part of the haunted house.

The outlines of grotesque, preternaturally bendy poltergeists dance before nauseating wallpaper, making for a phantasmagorical vision of unimaginable filth. This ghost, named Xtyl (pronounced “Crystal”), flung her limbs about as if in mid-seizure. Nearby, one gentleman—a modern Odysseus tying himself to the mast of his ship as he sails past the Sirens—sipped a bottled beer as he witnessed the ghastly display of deeply unsexy misery.